at the beginning of this year, most everything in my life was uncertain. I had a temporary space, my belongings piled in a garage, and a loose plan to travel and freelance my heart out. I knew southeast Oklahoma was tugging at me, but I had no idea what it had in store. in the spring I went on a month-long trek across Europe, searching for clarity and direction, wondering where I might finally call home again.
before I left for that trip, I ran into my high school sweetheart’s brother and sister-in-law at an alumni gathering on main street in my hometown. in the corner of a bar filled with familiar faces, we caught up on old times. my heart nudged me to ask about Joseph. how was he doing? what was his life like now?
Joseph was my first love, my first real friend who saw the parts of me I couldn’t explain to anyone else. we were just kids—emo kids—falling in love under those southeast Oklahoma skies. from the deer woods to small-town football games, from speech competitions to vocal performances to the bright lights of broadway shows in NYC on band and choir trips, we believed we had forever stretched out in front of us. we were together for three and a half years, weaving ourselves into each other’s stories, dreaming big and bold. he stayed home. I left, believing I had to chase something bigger than the fields and dusty roads we called ours.
over the years, life happened as it does. we made choices, built separate paths. and yet, a quiet ache always lingered—a wondering if the love we shared was something you only get once. I spent fourteen years far from these fields, chasing dreams and horizons, never fully imagining I’d return to a future that was waiting for both of us to step into it.
when I got back from Europe, Joseph and I had to reconnect. every conversation felt like opening a long-sealed box of memories, emotions, and possibilities. by the time I moved home, quietly and not entirely sure of my next steps, Joseph was there, waiting with a love that felt both brand new and achingly familiar. it’s as if we unlocked a door that was always meant to open, but only now, with the timing right and our hearts steady.
this second chance at love has been one of the most transformative and beautiful experiences of my life.
in reconnecting with Joseph, I’ve come home to a part of myself I didn’t realize I’d been missing.
the detours, the heartbreaks, the separate lives we built somehow led us back here, stronger and more ready than ever to love each other with open hearts.
at some point in the quiet of late summer evenings, I realized I was falling in love with him all over again—not just as my partner, but as a father. to witness him with his children, to see how lovingly and fiercely he shows up for them each day, was unlike anything I’d felt before. he is loving, nurturing, hardworking, kind, selfless—utterly precious in the way he pours himself into their lives. watching him juggle their needs, make sacrifices to ensure their comfort, and create moments of laughter and joy reminded me that devotion wears many faces. here he stands, the definition of divine masculine, turning what could be ordinary days into something sacred.
I could not help myself. this man, and the family we’re building, is the home I didn’t know I’d been searching for.
Joseph’s four kids—Josiah, Kate, Maverick, and Luca—are each their own unique universe of wonder and possibility. Josiah’s teenage humor and resilience carve out paths of understanding, Kate’s thoughtful creativity brings warmth and connection, maverick’s boundless energy and laughter crack open joy in the toughest of days, and Luca’s fascination with dinosaurs and the world in general invites me to see the world with fresh, curious eyes.
I’m learning to show up fully, to be honest and kind, to find my own place in this family’s story. we’re weaving old memories with new traditions, building a home that’s rooted in love, intention, and respect. it’s a testament to how love can evolve, endure, and emerge stronger than ever after all these years.
and I can’t believe I get to be mama fancy now. what a gift.
and now we’re on the brink of creating our own holiday rituals, blending what once was with what we’re building now. it feels like the perfect moment to honor the beauty of connection, the importance of family, and the simple truth that we can choose how we show up for the people we love.
I’m grateful for every twist and turn that led me back here, for the quiet urging that guided me home. for Joseph, my first love, who now stands beside me as we shape this new life. for the kids, who have folded me into their daily rhythms, allowing me to see the world through their eyes and find unexpected sweetness in the ordinary.
as we move forward, I carry this gratitude in my bones. I know we’re not just surviving; we’re making something extraordinary—together.
✧ and so it is. ✧
delicious ✰ ambiguity
(the playlist)
“I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity.” —Gilda Radner
ambiguous and ethereal playlist for the creative brain.
curated by fancy royce, updated whenever.
good in order. good on shuffle.
visual stimulation ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★
*yes, you get an entire gallery sneak peek of our photos with the incredible Rachel Waters*
that good good: a gratitude list of good things, inspired by the “good things happen” sticker on my water bottle.
being honest about where you’re at mentally
making homemade christmas gifts
two cuddling cats laying on you while you write your newsletter
memories that resurface after forgetting about them
taking your 89 year old grandmother whatever food you made that day
sharing what’s been on your heart with someone after avoiding it
bringing your full self into spaces that want to dim your light
wishing you all love, grace, and the courage to embrace every twist your journey offers.
I love you ♥︎
with all the comfort and joy,
aunt fancy
